


Brothers Mine

by MelyndaR



Category: Enola Holmes Series - Nancy Springer, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:54:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22957480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelyndaR/pseuds/MelyndaR
Summary: Enola's now turned eighteen and is free to reunite with her brothers, and eventually does so armed with her wit and two best friends - one of which has recently become her husband. (modern AU [where it concerns the Enola Holmes series]. originally posted on 10/14/14 on FF.net)
Relationships: Cecily Alistair & Enola Holmes, Enola Holmes & Mycroft Holmes, Enola Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Enola Holmes/Viscount "Tewky" Tewksbury
Comments: 11
Kudos: 508





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a modernized, AU-ish version of Enola's reunion with her brothers, should it have happened in modern times. I'm afraid it may be a little OOC, but hopefully you guys enjoy it anyway.

None of the three people in Enola's little band particularly enjoyed discussing their families, and so they simply didn't do so. It actually wasn't hard to avoid the topic when all three already knew the basics of each situation.

Enola had just turned eighteen, but still considered herself to be on the run from her two older brothers who, following the rather untimely disappearance of their parents four years ago, would've liked to see her in a boarding school, never mind the fact that she'd managed online classes and graduated just fine, thank you. Marquess Tewksbury Basilwether, sixteen, had left home around the same time Enola had, fleeing from an emotionally abusive environment and parents who had never bothered to search for him for fear of the public finding out how very imperfect their private lives were.

Lady Cecily Alistair was the eldest of their group at twenty, and a runaway the same as Tewky and Enola. However, she had left behind the insistence of her conservative parents twice – the first time when they desired her to start preparing for a life in the Convent at sixteen, and the second when they decided when she was seventeen that if she didn't desire the Convent, they would marry her off. She'd met Enola and Tewksbury – who had become an immediate duo upon _their_ first meeting (a kidnapping that was another story entirely) – on her first escape, but had returned to her parents for a year until her marriage was brought up. This Cecily had declared was the final straw, and had run away once again. Enola and Tewky, hearing of her disappearance, had hunted her down and welcomed her as the third in a new rendition of the Three Musketeers.

They called themselves this only because of Enola, who didn't like the comparison that the other two thought more appropriate – her to Sherlock, Tewky to John Watson, and Cecily to Mary Watson.

And so their lives had gone for the past three years.

Although Tewky's family had never looked for him, and Cecily's family had given up on finding her alive, Sherlock Holmes – if only Sherlock Holmes – still sought for his much younger sister from time to time. Whenever a tip would chance to come into Scotland Yard every so often, it would renew the brother's vigor for his search – it had become something of a pet project or hobby for him, Enola suspected – and the trio of young adults would be forced to change aliases, and sometimes even residences. A "close call" happened perhaps twice a year – just often enough to keep Sherlock interested, unfortunately – but there seemed to be a sort of as of yet unspoken question hanging between the three nowadays.

Since Enola had just turned eighteen, she was legally an adult; therefore her brothers couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. The question that needed to be answered was whether or not she would reveal herself to Sherlock and Mycroft, or were they to do as Cecily had already done and make the choice to continue to live this "one step ahead of the game" lifestyle? It wasn't that the three weren't fond of the most-recent tiny one-bedroom apartment they'd procured, or of their current aliases. These aliases required enough acting that it was sometimes fun, and reduced a number of questions, so long as they made sure they appeared to be older than what they actually were.

With their similar blond hair and hazel eyes, "Benjamin and Abigail Thomas" (Tewky and Cecily) were siblings, and "Hannah" was Benjamin's wife. This part of Enola's cover had, of course, come from a very amused Cecily who had pointed out – correctly, as much as Enola and Tewky sometime hated to admit it – that such a connection explained away the fact that dark-haired, gray-eyed Enola was obviously not a blood relation of either of the other two.

The dynamic that the three concocted was one that they had used the past two times that they had procured new identities – so it had been employed for over a year – and somewhere along the way, a grain of truth began to appear in the lie. Despite the two-year (oft-ignored) age difference, Enola and Tewky became quite a bit closer than they might have otherwise been, to the point that the rings they wore for the sake of their covers became a thing that they rather enjoyed having. The deal had been sealed – an actual relationship had been begun between the duo – when, during their last "close call" with Sherlock the two of them had pretended to be on a date and had kissed rather thoroughly to embarrass him into looking away. Cecily had been thoroughly – even to the point of childishness – thrilled with this turn of events.

And she even managed to bring it into her solution to Enola's concern when they finally did get around to talking about appearing to the Holmes brothers.

"My brothers…" Enola said thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully, legs slung across Tewky's lap, staring into her tea as they sat on the apartment couch together across from Cecily. "My brothers still believe me to be a child. They're not going to be content to think of me as otherwise unless they're met with irrefutable proof."

"I should think your age would be enough of that, don't you?" Tewky asked.

"Not for them," Enola said, shaking her head, mouth twisting ruefully as she added, "Besides, Mycroft _is_ the British government, remember? If there's a way for him to put me under his thumb legally, he'll find it."

"Well," Cecily spoke up brightly, the idea coming to her as entirely logical – although that was in part, Enola supposed, to be blamed upon the way that the older girl had been raised. "What if you were considered to actually be already under another man's thumb? Wouldn't that solve the problem?"

"It would have to, yes," Enola agreed. "Why does that matter, though?"

Cecily shrugged, sobering a bit as she seemed to realize the significance of what she was about to suggest before she said, "You and Tewky could just get married."


	2. Chapter 2

Cecily wasn't a child, she realized how serious a thing she'd just suggested, and she wouldn't have brought up the idea of a marriage between her two closest – _only_ – friends if she'd had any doubt that it wouldn't work out, especially not when one considered why she'd run away from home that second time. Logically, they all knew all of this, but it took the duo to whom it had been suggested a moment to catch up with what had really just been said.

Within that moment, Cecily had added helpfully, "We could even go to Scotland to have the ceremony performed. You don't need consent at sixteen over there."

"You're insane," Tewky informed her bluntly.

"And yet you're not running away screaming at the very idea," Cecily pointed out. "Really, you two, I mean, look at yourselves!" She gestured emphatically to where her friends sat on the couch, limbs casually intertwined – Enola's legs draped over Tewky's knees and one of Tewky's hands running through Enola's ponytail while the other rested on her lap, their free hands entwined. " _I'm_ the one who's actually been sleeping on the couch in this place for the past seven months while _Ben and Hannah_ get the bedroom. Don't think I don't know what's been going on in there! You've already got rings and a _fake_ marriage license, why not just get a real one and add one more layer of protection around our dear little Enola for when she faces down her big bad brothers?"

Despite the fact that they knew the contrary to be true, Tewky couldn't help declaring, even while his face was colored an amusing shade of red, "You are such a child, Cecily Alistair."

"But I have a point!" Cecily caroled, standing and heading for the apartment door with a smile on her face. "I'm going to leave you two to figure this out – while I go get some passports to Scotland made for us, that is."

When the door closed behind her, Tewky and Enola both blew out twin breaths of exasperation before Tewky turned to catch Enola's eye, beginning awkwardly, "So…"

* * *

So Enola and Tewky were married two days later in Gretna, Scotland – under their real names, despite the fake passports that Cecily had procured from a man in the counterfeiting business that they had gotten to know quite well over the past years. It was a nearly strange affair, seeing as – despite the fact that they were sleeping together – Enola and Tewky saw themselves as two parts of a trio, and not so much a couple who had Cecily along for the ride. Even after their vows and rings had been exchanged, they didn't really _want_ anything to change between the three of them – and so they decided, without consulting Cecily on the matter, that, as best as they could manage, things wouldn't change, at least not when they were out of the public eye.

A marriage – and technically, a title – in name only for Enola's sake as an added layer of protection against her brothers' potential schemes wasn't a bad idea, really. That's why they had agreed to go through with it when Cecily brought it up.

Only… it wasn't even technically an "in name only" sort of affair. Enola and Tewky both knew that they felt for one another the deepest level of _friendship_ that they knew to be possible – admittedly on a deeper level than how they both cared for Cecily – but they didn't know if what they had could be quantified as _romantic_ love. Definitely friends with benefits – even boyfriend and girlfriend were acceptable titles for one another – but husband and wife? That was a bit deeper than what they were ready for – after all, they were only sixteen and eighteen – but they had taken the leap anyway. And until they eventually got things squared away with Mycroft and Sherlock – no matter how long that might take – they would remain within the holy – and legal – bonds of matrimony. But their behavior towards one another didn't have to change any – or at least that's what they decided.

At which – upon the declaration of these intentions to Cecily – the blonde just rolled her eyes and mentally settled in to watch the show as it progressed – because even if they didn't know so, she at least knew that things between Tewky and Enola _would_ progress.

* * *

Cecily had turned away from her friends after this conversation the day after their wedding just in time for them to miss the roll of her eyes. As they went about getting breakfast for themselves, she changed the subject, asking, "So what now? You're married, Enola has her other layer of protection. Are we dropping Ben, Hannah, and Abby? Going back to London or staying in Scotland for a little longer? Going to see Mycroft and Sherlock, maybe? What are your plans, boss lady?"

"I'm not the boss," Enola objected, turning with her bowl of cereal and sitting on the kitchen counter. "We're the Three Musketeers; this time you two decide where to go and I'll follow."

She knew what they wanted to do – maybe even needed to do, in her own case – but she couldn't force herself to be the one to make the judgment call. Not this time.

"We used our real names on our marriage certificate," Tewky pointed out logically. "I would bet that Mycroft has feelers out far enough to soon get word of your resurgence here in Scotland."

"Agreed," Enola nodded. "But what does that mean? That we return to London to lose him, stay here and wait for him, or go to London with the intent of meeting up with him before he can come to us?"

Cecily and Tewky looked nervously at one another before the latter opted to speak up, saying carefully, "Well, if you plan to get back into contact with your brothers, it may be better to do so sooner rather than later – at least in my-"

"-Our-" Cecily broke in.

Tewky nodded, finishing, " _Our_ opinion."

Enola slowly took in a deep breath, nodding as she said thoughtfully, "Right then. Baker Street, here we come."

The trio exchanged nervous glances, and Enola was the first to look away, turning to the sink to wash their few breakfast dishes and knowing that the other two would see to the few belongings that they had brought with them to Gretna.

Before she left the kitchen, Cecily gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and Enola smiled half-heartedly at her friend. Then Cecily left the kitchen and Tewky's arm was around Enola's shoulders, pulling her close as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"Ben's" wedding ring glinted on the finger of Tewky's that it had occupied for months, the masculine counterpart to the ring on Enola's own hand, and she was suddenly struck by the fact that it wasn't just "Ben's" ring, but actually Tewky's. They were actually husband and wife now, her and him, Tewky Basilwether and Enola Holmes – she was too attached to her famous surname to want to give it up even upon marriage – were now tied together forever, come what may. And as Enola allowed herself to curl even just momentarily into her young husband's embrace, she was suddenly glad that at least that was one fact in her life that was definite.


	3. Chapter 3

"Nothing is _going on_ ," Sherlock sulked, staring in aggravation at his nearly empty wall of papers, paying no attention to the fact that Mycroft – to whom he was speaking – had moved into the kitchen and taken a phone call. "I've never had to be inactive this long, not with Enola's disappearance, Moriarty – both times he was caught – and his network, Irene, A.G.R.A., my death and resurgence. It was all gloriously interesting! Now all that remains of those things is our little sister, and hers is such an old case that she's ceased to surprise me. Looking for her has become more of an idle hobby than anything else. Boring, boring, boring."

"Bite… your… tongue."

Sherlock's gaze snapped around to study Mycroft as the elder brother succinctly bit out each word in a slow, exasperatedly cranky snarl while he emerged from the kitchen.

"Why?" he queried.

"Enola."

"You have news of her?" Sherlock asked curiously, whipping around to face Mycroft, his dressing gown fanning out around him when he turned as the consulting detective's brother sank into what Sherlock would forever consider to be "John's chair."

Taking his brother's cue, Sherlock settled into his own chair, straightening up as Mycroft nodded and filled him in with an edge of weariness in his voice. "It would appear that our sister has married earlier this week – two days ago, to be exact – in Gretna, Scotland."

"Whoever to?" Sherlock yelped, because, despite his statement from a moment ago, this was a move from his little sister that did in fact surprise him.

Mycroft laughed humorlessly, declaring, "Marquess Tewksbury Basilwether."

"And who is he?" Sherlock asked, digesting the unusual name with a touch of distaste.

"A sixteen year old, for starters, born in the nearby countryside, who – though it's been kept very much under the radar – disappeared from his home four years ago, and, to my knowledge, had by now been presumed dead."

"Why on earth would a titled twelve-year-old just simply 'disappear' – at the very least without a great uproar?"

"I've known a little of his family over the years, and to be entirely frank, I believe that the reason he disappeared – in my opinion, ran away – is the same reason it was kept quiet; his home was not a happy one."

"Classic," Sherlock muttered to himself before launching up out of his chair, retrieving his laptop, and pulling up one of a number of photos. Turning the laptop so that Mycroft could see the face on the screen, he asked, "Is this your missing Marquess?"

"Yes."

Sherlock nodded, answering the unasked question when he said, "The boy's been a companion of Enola's practically since the day she ran away. Not a planned thing, I don't think, but it apparently turned out to be very fortuitous for the both of them."

"So you knew that she was living with a boy, and yet you obviously didn't see this coming."

"Not a sentimental thing like a marriage, no," Sherlock agreed. "Mostly because it didn't seem like she was just shacking up with this boy. Enola and Tewksbury are, so far as I can tell, also in the company of another vanished noble, twenty-year-old Lady Cecily Alistair."

"And you're saying that these three just came together _by chance_?"

"No, of course not. Yes, they came together, but you and I both know the universe is rarely so lazy as to rely on _chance_ , brother mine."

"So why did the three of them remain together as a trio?" Mycroft asked. "And why in the bloody _h***_ did Enola go off and _marry_ that marquess?"

Sherlock considered this for a second, hands steepling underneath his chin as he thought, before he suggested, "Monetary safety? No, not if they're both on the lam, so to speak. Social standing? She's only just barely managed that, again considering they're on the run which means that they can only just barely _exist_."

"But you would maintain that for her it means protection of some sort?" Mycroft asked.

Sherlock nodded. "She's been so shrewd in how she's gone about staying off the radar, there's a very good reason that she's alright with getting back on it now."

"Is she okay with it because she's become of age?"

Sherlock suddenly sat up ramrod straight, eyes widening as he snapped, "What?"

"She's become of age, Sherlock," Mycroft said exasperatedly. "It's August, her eighteenth birthday was last month; don't you know that?"

"Why would I know when her birthday is?" Sherlock asked, nose crinkling before he shot to his feet and headed into the kitchen.

"Because she's your sister!" Mycroft replied, turning in his chair to look after his brother. "What are you doing?"

"Making tea; you might want to stay to have it with us."

"'Us'?" Mycroft repeated. "Enjoy this statement this once, little brother – because it's the only time you'll hear it – but I believe I missed something. Who's coming over?"

Sherlock poked his head around the doorjamb long enough to say, "Enola."

Eyes blowing wide, Mycroft surged to his feet and strode after Sherlock, watching his brother's back as tea was indeed prepared. " _What_ exactly makes you think that our sister's just going to _pop in for tea_?"

Slamming the kettle down on the stove and setting the tea to brewing, Sherlock whirled back around to face Mycroft, explaining what he himself had just realized. "It _is_ about becoming of age. That is exactly it. We can no longer control any or every move that she makes, which means that she no longer has any reason to fear us or to stay away from us. Our sister seems to have taken after our parents in a leaning towards utter sentimentality which, at its very heart, craves a family. This is, I suspect, why she's kept in the company of the two nobles, and it also gives me reason to believe that she will return to us very soon. In fact, I don't believe it remiss to expect her here within the day."

"You're kidding," Mycroft scoffed, trailing after Sherlock when the younger brother left the kitchen to go peer out the window in the front room. "Even if you are correct in that she will choose to return to us, it's been over a month since she could've done so; what makes you think she'll choose today?"

Sherlock smirked at something outside the window as he said, "It's in her timing. A marriage is something of a safety point to her, and beyond that it's a matter of mathematics. We've received no word indicating a change of address or relocation from London where she's concerned, which means that she went to Scotland simply to wed – a business trip of sorts – and will return at the earliest opportunity to her habitual lodgings in our home city. Allowing her time to do that and settle back in a bit, seeing to whatever means of support I suspect she has for herself, and whatever else she feels is necessary, I would say that two days is plenty of time. For whatever reason arose in her mind, marriage was the final layer of her armor before she approached us, and now all we have to do is wait."

"You cannot possibly know that about her! We haven't seen a glimpse of her in four years!"

"No, Mycroft," Sherlock corrected, still looking out the window. " _You_ haven't seen her in four years. In my searching for her, I've spotted her numerous times."

"And yet you let her alone?"

"She seems to be doing very well on her own; I saw no real need to disrupt her happiness."

"I still say you cannot possibly be correct in the whole fiasco," Mycroft groused.

Mrs. Hudson interrupted them, shuffling a little nervously into the room to inform her boarder, "Sherlock, there's some young people downstairs who'd like to speak to you about a possible case."

"A case?" Sherlock asked, as if he'd never heard of such a thing… and then he muttered to himself, smiling depreciatingly, "Of course… a case. Silly." He nodded to Mrs. Hudson, saying, "Tell them to come on up," and to Mycroft, "I am correct about Enola. You'll see."


	4. Chapter 4

"This is a horrible idea," Enola muttered, pacing nervously on the sidewalk outside of the infamous 221b.

"How?" Cecily asked impatiently. "You're in full disguise; no one is going to recognize any of us!"

"He's bloody Sherlock Holmes; he'll notice," Enola replied. "He'll at the very least know who _I_ am. And then there's this," she pointed to the shiny black car that was parked in the street by them. "Where there is this car, there is Mycroft, and he, I'm sure, will know who both of you are as well. They are _both_ in that flat _as we speak_."

"Then we'll kill two birds with one stone," Tewky said calmly, laying a soothing hand on Enola's shoulder to stop her nervous movements. "Cecily and I are both here for the duration of this visit, and all three of us are armed."

"No one's going to shoot my brothers!"

"Of course not," Tewky answered. "It's simply a matter of intimidation – and only if such a thing becomes necessary."

Cecily added helpfully, "Which, of course, it won't."

"Now," Tewky said, extending his hand to his new bride. "Come on, Mrs. Thomas, our child has gone missing, and Sherlock Holmes alone can save our poor little princess."

Enola took a deep breath and accepted Tewky's outstretched hand, finding that the tears expected of a frantic mother weren't at all hard to bring to the surface. At the same time that the door was opened by the landlady of 221 Baker Street – a woman Enola knew by Dr. Watson's blog to be named Mrs. Hudson – she caught a shock of dark hair disappearing back behind a fluttering curtain in the window above. Sherlock.

Enola began to quiver as Mrs. Hudson let them in and, after explaining to them that the great detective was currently visiting with his brother, went up to ask if he would see them anyway. While she was gone, Tewky pressed a kiss to her temple and Cecily squeezed her shoulder, trying to steel her fraying nerves in the moment before Mrs. Hudson reappeared, declaring that the Holmes brothers were both currently available to see them.

Therefore, Enola had just enough time to be glad that she was _supposed_ to look like a mess right now before she was following her friends up to her brother's flat.

* * *

The first to enter Sherlock's flat was a young blonde woman with brown eyes in surprisingly conservative dress – what was nearly a maid's uniform, even. Although Mycroft, being as skeptical as he was of Sherlock's deduction, didn't instantly recognize what he was seeing, Sherlock did, and he knew that Lady Cecily Alistair was behind the guise. The man who followed her was also disguised, but he as a wealthy – and very worried – man with glasses, perhaps a scholar or surgeon was the look meant to be achieved. Marquess Tewksbury Basilwether, looking a solid decade older than what Sherlock knew his actual age to be.

And finally, Enola – dressed to the nines as this moneyed surgeon's wife, of course, and with absolutely genuine fear in her eyes – but still Enola nonetheless.

Sherlock nodded at each of the trio in turn as they entered and then towards the couch against one wall, silently offering them seats. When they sat, Sherlock moved to sit on the coffee table in front of them, his knees nearly touching those of his sister.

Of Mycroft, who was sitting in John's chair, he requested over his shoulder, "Dear brother mine, could you go get the tea? I believe our visitors could use something to calm down over."

Mycroft moved to do as he'd been asked, though not without grumbling something under his breath.

Once his brother was disposed of in the kitchen, Sherlock asked, deciding to play along, "So, how can I be of assistance to you?"

"I am Benjamin Thomas," Marquess Basilwether said, "And this is my wife, Hannah, and our daughter's nanny, Abigail Moore. Our daughter's the reason we're here – she's gone missing."

"How tragic," Sherlock said, fighting to keep back the urge to smile. "And how old is she?"

At last Enola spoke, twittering, "O-only t-t-wo."

"Dear me," Mycroft said disinterestedly, laying the tea tray down on the table beside Sherlock before resuming his occupation of John's chair.

The eldest Holmes even went so far as to take up a newspaper and begin reading, idiotically ignoring Sherlock's new visitors entirely.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, laying a hand on Enola's hand and saying, "Ignore him. Do go on, Mrs. Thomas. When did you last see your daughter?"

Here Lady Cecily, the "nanny" spoke, answering, "I put her down for her after-lunch nap, and when I went to check on her an hour later, she was gone. Vanished into thin air."

"I doubt quite highly that such a thing could happen," Sherlock answered.

During this storytelling, he had watched his sister as much as was possible without raising the suspicion of the trio on his couch, and hadn't missed the fact that Enola's eyes had been surreptitiously skimming what she could see of his flat. They were here to scope him out!

Well, he wasn't about to let them leave the flat undiscovered, and the sooner the better in his mind.

So he added as a means to an end, "I'm sure you're all just a bit overwrought at the moment. Not without reason, of course; the disappearance of a loved one so much younger than oneself is indeed a very stressful occurrence." This while looking straight at Enola.

Enola began to shake in earnest then, and her husband's grip on her hand tightened protectively while his gaze momentarily flashed hostility towards Sherlock. The younger Holmes brother heard Mycroft lower his paper behind him, suddenly looking at the visitors more carefully and swearing under his breath a moment later when he realized who were beneath the disguises.

"Tea, anyone?" Sherlock asked calmly.

"A child is missing, Mr. Holmes!" Lady Cecily objected.

"On the contrary," Mycroft said, standing and coming to tower over his siblings and sister's friends with an unpleasant smile. "It seems to me that a child has been found today."


	5. Chapter 5

"Unless you have something useful to say about this investigation, sod off," the marquess told Mycroft sharply.

The eldest Holmes raised his eyebrows, taking a step closer as if to threaten Basilwether. Sherlock lashed out with one arm, slamming it firmly across Mycroft's legs to keep him where he was, and glared up at his brother.

"Shut up or do as the man said and sod off," Sherlock said in a perfectly pleasant voice. "Can't you see how distressed this poor couple is? Don't you remember how _agonizing_ it is to know that the helpless little one is missing?"

"I believe our case is a bit different than what 'the couple' is suggesting, brother mine," Mycroft said tolerantly, locking eyes with Sherlock.

"Quite," Sherlock agreed. "But… not quite, either. You of all people should know that the sentiments of a brother can often mirror those of a parent if necessary."

Mycroft snorted, looking away towards the window.

Sherlock turned back to his visitors, saying, "Please, have some tea. Settle down-" he glared at Mycroft while saying, " _Everyone_ – and let's talk about this."

" _What_ is to talk about?" Mycroft snapped.

"'Why don't you trust us' seems to be a good question to start with," Sherlock answered, turning to face his brother, but still catching the curse that their sister muttered under her breath when she received verification that she'd been figured out.

"For shame, Enola," Sherlock chided sarcastically, dropping all pretenses. "Such language!"

"Your friend would be proud, Sherlock," Mycroft remarked off-handedly before asking, "Should I call them?"

"Why?"

"Well, we both know that all three of our guests-"

"- _My_ guests; they came to me, and you were just here-"

"-Are armed. I thought you might appreciate the idea of two more guns in the room."

"Against our own sister? I think not."

"Then shall we jump simply to calling DI Lestrade to place them under arrest for carrying illegally? I know for a fact that they have no guns registered to them, yet they all currently carry."

Sherlock turned towards his brother with a short-lived sigh of forbearance and suggested, "Mycroft, why don't you leave. I'll call if you're needed; in the mean time, get out. You know where the door is, and you know what I'll do to you if you don't go through it when asked."

Mycroft looked taken aback, protesting, "I don't think that's wise."

Sherlock smirked, realizing a parallel to Mycroft's oft-used "unwise, brother mine," line, and stood to his feet, saying with a barely heard but entirely registered threat in his tone, "Oh, but I do. Now, leave."

With one final look cast at Enola and then Sherlock, Mycroft grabbed his umbrella and strode out the door, spine rigid.

"Poor boy," Sherlock drawled, returning to his perch on the coffee table and passively watching his guests. "He got his feelings hurt."

"I was under the impression that he didn't have feelings," Enola all but snarled.

Sherlock smiled at her, his eyes bright with a touch of reproof at the fore as he reminded his baby sister, "We both know better."

"On that note," Enola said conversationally. "How's Lisa doing, dear sister-in-law of ours?"

"Fine," Sherlock answered, going along with the façade that this was all perfectly normal - his barely-known sister returning to him after four years missing.

"Pregnant, right?" Enola added. "But Mycroft hasn't informed her of that fact, yet, I don't think."

"What?" Cecily asked suddenly. "I thought the woman generally told the man that particular sort of news. And how on earth do you know about it?"

Enola answered, "She wouldn't need to tell him if Mycroft figured out the symptoms before she does."

"Of course he figured it out," Cecily muttered.

Enola smirked sideways at her friend as she asked, "Are you surprised?"

"No. Very little surprises me after living with you and Tewky for as long as I have. But you didn't say how _you_ knew about it."

"Especially considering that he wasn't even married when you left," Sherlock added, looking at Enola with interest. "Care to explain how you arrived at your conclusions?"

"He's wearing a wedding ring," Enola deadpanned. "I'm not stupid, Sherlock."

"On his right hand, which could stand for the loss of a spouse or a gay marriage."

"But, because it comes from Mycroft and his overly safety-conscious mind, one must assume that is what you are _meant_ to think, therefore something different is in fact the truth. It's much simpler than bereavement or homosexuality – wearing his wedding ring on his right hand is simply a safety precaution for Lisa's sake. I believe that your friend – the blogger, Dr. Watson – knows her as 'Anthea,' correct?"

"Correct," Sherlock nodded, a smile playing about the corners of his mouth as he asked, "And what about the pregnancy? I myself wasn't even certain about that until he came to see me this morning."

"Because he did come to see you," Enola answered. "When we came in, he was obviously distracted. He had something on his mind to tell you when he came here, but he never got around to it because he received an even more distracting phone call after which, we immediately invaded."

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, asking, "And how does all that you've mentioned so far equate a pregnancy?"

"He was nervous," Enola said with a slight smile. "Matters of political intrigue, or almost anything else, don't make him nervous. Only matters in his family life bother him that way. Correction: he considers me more of a bother than something to be worried about, and when we walked in it was easy enough to see that both you and he are in good health. I believe he's given up on finding our parents, so they're out of the running as well. This leaves only his bride as a contender. He looked nervous, not distraught or haggard, as he would have if she were in ill health, meaning his worry was only that of his own mind, not something that would be a concern to most people. A pregnancy then."

"I confess," Sherlock replied. "I didn't realize you were that astute. I'm rather impressed."

Enola smirked a bit as she answered, "I figured that out too."

"You really did, didn't you?" Sherlock asked, studying her thoughtfully.

"Yes," Enola answered patiently. "I happen to be much more capable the my brothers give me credit for."

"Then _Mycroft_ gives you credit for," Sherlock corrected her. "I, on the other hand, have found you to be quite capable. Very close to predictable, perhaps, but capable, nonetheless. Which brings me to my next thought. I'm aware that you've both kept your apartment and procured a husband, but I would very much like for you to stay with me for awhile. Allow me to get to know you better."

"You want me to… move in with you?" Sherlock nodded. "I'm not going to move somewhere without my husband."

"Of course you won't," Sherlock replied with a dismissive flutter of his hand. "He can come too."

"I can keep up the apartment in case you all get tired of one another," Cecily spoke up, and to look at her, Enola realized that her friend was entirely in favor of Sherlock's proposition.

"I don't think we will – not for quite some time, at least," Enola answered before asking Tewky, "What do you want to do?"

"You seem happy to be here," Tewky observed. "I think it would make you even happier if we did stay here."

Enola squeezed his hand in thanks, realizing, "I am happy to be here." She glanced at Sherlock, admitting, "I didn't like having to run from you, and I'm happy to see you – and Mycroft, too, for that matter."

Sherlock actually smiled at her then, replying, "Good; I'll be glad to have flat mates again." he hesitated before he said sincerely, "And Enola? I know that I speak for both Mycroft and myself when I say that we're very glad to have you back with us."


End file.
